The Regressor Wants to Become a Hero

Chapter 91

The headless statue symbolized Tandéot, one of the Twelve Lords of Guardianship.

A statue meant to project solemnity was now a sorry sight.

Its armor was shattered in various places, and the shield on its left arm was reduced to a mere fragment, leaving it bare and exposed. The mace in its right hand was battered and misshapen.

The two relics, meant to protect and defend, couldn’t serve their purpose in such a state.

“…….”

Garavan had seen it enough to be used to it, yet he could never lift his head without shame when looking at the statue’s disgraceful condition.

It weighed on his conscience.

His stomach churned; he felt the urge to empty everything he had eaten that day.

But just as he was sinking into contemplation, a voice interrupted him once again, ringing clearly in his ears.

-□□□, □□□, □□□.

Passing by the statue of the lord and stepping further inside, he entered a wide space, giving the sensation of floating through water.

No light existed here, yet Garavan could see everything with sharp clarity.

It wasn’t that he had special vision; this space itself was unique.

This was originally a secret place reserved for the lord, connected to the fortress’s exterior.

But now, it served as an altar and temple for an Outer God.

With a grim expression, Garavan moved forward. There was a faintly writhing sack there.

Garavan let out a self-deprecating laugh.

“Still alive? That’s unfortunate.”

Those who wield magic don’t die easily. In other words, even if they wished for death, it wouldn’t come easily.

Garavan lifted the sack.

Though he was a mage, his natural Dwarven strength made tasks like these trivial.

But with his race’s small stature, he could only drag it along. The person inside the sack in his right hand spoke.

“S…pare… me… or… just… end it….”

“That won’t happen. You’re destined to be sacrifices.”

From the sack in his left hand came another voice.

“The lord… will not… forgive… you.”

At that, Garavan smiled widely.

“I’m sure. I know full well that none of this can be forgiven. Do you think I’m unaware? But it doesn’t matter. I’ve already crossed the river of no return.”

He placed the sack on the altar.

“How ironic, though. After all, you’re the ones who massacred the village.”

“…….”

He repeated the process.

Garavan muttered as if making an excuse.

“Salvation was never in my sights. I knew that day that, like you, I had no salvation. Sad as it is, it’s my fate.”

There was no response. Only breathing could be heard from within the sack.

“But nothing changes. I’m still alive, and my resolve remains the same.”

He moved all the piled sacks onto the altar.

Garavan cast a cold gaze at the statue beyond the altar.

Unlike the lord’s statue at the entrance, this one was relatively intact.

The robed figure with four arms had its hood drawn deep over its headless form, and despite the emptiness, Garavan could feel its gaze.

“Please, partake.”

Thud!

With those words, a dull sound echoed from the sack on the altar, followed by a burst.

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Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud!

Thick, red liquid spurted out from the gaps in the sack.

The smell of blood filled the air, stinging Garavan’s nose. He twitched his eyes.

The statue didn’t absorb the blood; it trickled down freely.

In that chilling atmosphere, Garavan swallowed his rising discomfort and spoke again.

“Please, partake. As promised, here is the offering.”

-□□□ □□□ □□□□.

“I did as you desired. I kept to the date, fulfilled the numbers. What dissatisfaction do you have?”

-□□□ □□□ □□.

“I understand. I lack discipline.”

-□□□□. □□.

“I understand. You are graciously overlooking my impudence.”

-□□□□. □□.

“…There is an outsider named Ian Berger staying here.”

-□□□ □□□.

Garavan’s eyes widened. He swallowed hard, questioning what he had heard.

Even when the sacrifices cursed him, he’d shown no reaction, but this time he clenched his teeth.

And so, he replied.

“That’s impossible.”

-□□□.

“No.”

-Ian.

Garavan frowned, glaring at the statue.

His behavior was as irreverent as could be, especially considering he was addressing an Outer God’s statue—a madman’s act.

One moment’s whim could turn him into a sacrifice, just like those in the sack moments ago.

The loquacious Outer God chuckled, laughing noisily.

Garavan shouted in protest.

-□□ □□□□, □□.

“That’s a breach of contract!”

-□□□ □□□□.

“You promised to accept only the sacrifices I designated!”

At that moment, the blood that had been trickling down slowly began to be absorbed into the statue.

Reluctantly, as though unwilling to feed, yet not a single drop was left. Even the scent vanished.

“…….”

-□□□□ □□ □□□ □□.

Garavan remained silent. The aura emanating from the statue snuffed out, like a candle’s flame.

This was a contract. In exchange for forbidden knowledge, he had vowed human sacrifices to the Faceless One.

Not once had he broken that promise, nor had anyone discovered it.

He was fully aware this act was wrong, but he had never regretted it.

Without this pact, he likely wouldn’t be alive today.

Thus, he always felt as if he were walking a tightrope.

He thought he was cautiously advancing, but it seemed he had finally reached the end.

‘This is a first.’

It was the first time the offering had been refused, and the first time a specific target had been requested.

‘Is there something special about Ian Berger?’

Looking at his recent accomplishments, it was true he was quite a remarkable individual.

But here, in the fortress of Helrem, nothing significant had happened that would particularly intrigue an Outer God.

As Garavan cleaned the altar, the question gnawed at him, but he found no satisfying answer.

Days passed. He was prepared to act if anything unusual arose, but the world remained as mundane as ever.

However, the one he dealt with was an Outer God. Although he offered sacrifices, Garavan didn’t truly follow or believe in the deity.

“How much longer do you plan to stay here?”

Ian, who had been amusing himself with creatures from the Outer Gate using a golem, paused at the question.

He’d like nothing more than to settle down here for a while.

Aside from the food, which he had complaints about, the place wasn’t half bad overall.

Not only was it a valuable learning experience, but Helrem Fortress was an excellent hunting ground as well.

The frequent openings of the Outer Gate brought in a steady stream of profitable opportunities.

At this rate, he might even raise enough to meet the Judge’s expected fee.

But, sensing that further stay might be unwelcome, he gave a measured response.

“I should head back by the end of this week.”

“Good timing.”

“Why, planning to send me off with a parting gift?”

Garavan gave a faint smile.

“Got something saved up? You ought to give your teacher a proper gift.”

“A fountain pen, perhaps?”

“I’d prefer something of quality. Like a Level 7 mana stone.”

“Hmm, I’ll have to think about that one.”

A rather valuable item for a gift.

As Ian used the Bane of Evil to close the Outer Gate, he glanced at Garavan.

Despite their light-hearted exchange, Garavan’s gaze was serious.

“You look like you’ve bitten into something bitter.”

“Are you really a noble? You have quite the lowbrow expressions.”

Garavan responded with a sour look, and Ian smirked.

“Isn’t it charming? So, quit dodging the question.”

“…The Outer Gate has been opening too frequently.”

“Sounds like a flimsy excuse. Isn’t it usually like this?”

“No. It’s never been like this. If not for you, we’d be endlessly firing our cannons.”

“So you’re dismissing me over a mere inconvenience?”

“You are the cause.”

Ian looked puzzled at Garavan’s words.

“What do you mean…?”

“Just accept it as it is. I can’t explain it any further.”

All Ian could do was nod begrudgingly, feeling somewhat unsatisfied.

Even after that, he continued to close the Outer Gates near the fortress.

That night, Garavan headed once more to the fortress’s underground chambers.

Although he still had time before the next sacrifice, he felt the need to prepare, as there was no guarantee he’d find suitable offerings on schedule.

He descended the dark, spiral staircase by the light of a single candle, passing the desecrated statue, and entered a small shrine.

In the center of the room stood an altar and a faceless statue with four arms. Behind it lay a hidden passage leading outside the fortress.

As he moved quietly, a voice echoed once more.

-□□□□.

“…!”

Garavan flinched, stepping back.

-□□ □□□□.

“I warned you this was a breach of contract.”

-□□□ □□□, □□ □□□.

“The final… offering?”

The Outer God spoke, suggesting that if Ian Berger were offered as a sacrifice, no more offerings would be necessary.

It whispered to him about ending the pact.

For a moment, Garavan hesitated, tempted by the thought that he could end this horrific agreement with a single sacrifice.

But then he let out a dry chuckle. As if it would end that easily.

To make full use of the knowledge he had gained from the Outer God, he’d need to continue these offerings.

What he needed, after all, were human heads.

“That would be… difficult.”

It seemed his refusal had displeased the Outer God.

-□□□ □□□ □□. □□□ □□□ □□□□. □□□□.

-□□□□ □□□. □□□. □□□□.

-□□ □□□. □□□□.

The voice grew increasingly hostile, radiating an intense hunger and deep frustration. Words, similar and repetitive, pounded into his mind.

“Enough…!”

-□□□□ □□□ □□□. □□□. □□□. □□□. □□□.

But it didn’t stop. It continued, like a child demanding to be heard.

Garavan, gasping for air, fell to his knees as the words turned into an unending noise, ringing in his ears.

Beeeeeep!

He felt nauseous. Struggling against the madness, he clung desperately to his sanity.

If he let his guard down for even a second, he feared he might beg for mercy and agree to its demands.

Crunch!

Gritting his teeth to keep himself from uttering weak words, he clenched his fists until they felt as if they’d shatter.

How long had he been there? Suddenly regaining his senses, Garavan jerked his head up.

“!”

The statue that had stood behind the altar was gone. No one would have stolen that horrid thing.

Realizing something had gone terribly wrong, he staggered to his feet.

For reasons he couldn’t understand, the Outer God he’d made a pact with was insistent on claiming Ian Berger.

—

“Ian! Are you in there? Wake up!”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Ian opened his eyes. Though he’d been sound asleep, the loud pounding on the door forced him awake.

“Ian!”

The booming voice was unmistakably Garavan’s.

He didn’t know why Garavan was looking for him so urgently at dawn, but he felt certain Garavan would come in if he didn’t respond.

Bam!

Sure enough, Garavan entered, unlocking the door with magic as the latch clicked open.

It was a rude intrusion, but Garavan didn’t seem to care.

“Get ready.”

“For what?”

“A train will soon arrive from the defensive line to collect byproducts. You’re leaving on it.”

“What?”

“There’s no time to explain. The train will be here soon.”

Garavan’s face was deeply troubled as he delivered his hurried message.

Caught off guard, Ian agreed, albeit reluctantly. With the host insisting he leave, there wasn’t much sense in arguing to stay.

———-